Wash 29-FINALE

Teddy stepped into the bar behind Roger.

The lights flickered on.

The room was small, rough around the edges—but alive.

It buzzed with laughter and clinking bottles, music playing over worn speakers.

Everyone turned when Roger entered.

Cheers. Raised drinks. He was home here.

Without a word, Roger led Teddy to a small side table, handed him a cold beer,

and offered a soft, almost unreadable smile.

He then climbed onto the makeshift stage,

adjusted the mic, strummed a few chords on his beat-up guitar,

and the crowd roared again.

Before playing, Roger glanced at his phone and fired off a quick text.

“He’s here.”

He launched into another song.

Teddy sipped his beer slowly, heart thudding against the ache in his chest.

Something about this place felt different.

Not like the church. Not like home.

But safe.

None of these strangers knew who he was.

And yet… Roger did.

And Roger brought him here.

Mid-song, Roger’s strumming slowed.

He cleared his throat. “You guys always show up for me. Seriously.

So keep those beers coming—I gotta keep this job.”

The crowd laughed and raised their bottles.

Roger exhaled, then said,

“But tonight... I wanna introduce someone to you all. Someone important.”

Teddy looked up.

Roger kept going. “There's a side of me I’ve always kept hidden.

One I’m not proud of. I’m a bully. I used to think hurting people gave me power.

And honestly, for a long time... it did.

Therapists couldn’t help. I bullied them too. Got kicked out every damn time.”

Scattered chuckles. Roger smiled bitterly.

“But this guy?” Roger said, nodding at Teddy.

“He flipped my world. He made me want to walk away from the version of myself I hate.

Because when I look at him, I see someone I don’t want to hurt.

I see someone I want to protect.”

Roger walked offstage and approached Teddy.

Teddy’s breath hitched.

Roger reached out his hand. “Come up here with me.”

Teddy, hesitant, stood.

The crowd quieted. All eyes on them.

Roger led him to the mic, then turned to face him.

“Teddy, I’ve done things to you I can never take back.

I’m sorry. I punished you because I was punishing myself.

But I’m done being that guy.

I don’t want to hurt you anymore—I want to love you.”

He fished a small ring from his pocket—bent, dull, clearly worthless.

“This isn’t a dream ring. Even the pawn shop next door wouldn’t take this.

But this is me. And I want to be yours.

I want you to be my boyfriend.

Teddy will you take this ring and my heart?”

Teddy’s eyes welled.

A thousand memories crashed at once—Cliff, Drew, Sylvia, his mother, the lies, the betrayals.

But standing here, Roger was offering him a different story.

The story that Cliff and Drew did not write with him.

Did everything happened so it can lead to this moment?

Is Roger the ONE all along?

Not Drew.

Not Cliff.

But Roger.

Teddy nodded slowly. “Yes.”

The crowd clapped.

Roger grinned. “You guys heard that? He said yes!”

He moved in closer, gently cupping Teddy’s cheek,

his lips inching forward.

Teddy closed his eyes.

A tear slid down his cheek in—— anticipation.

He’s ready to let go, ready to be held.

He’s ready for Roger.

BUT…WEIRD.

What’s going on?

Nothing happened.

He opened his eyes.

Roger had frozen. Inches away.

His smile fading. His face collapsing.

“I—I can’t,” Roger whispered.

“I’m sorry. I can’t do this.”

The room was dead silent.

Teddy stepped back. “Roger… what’s going on?”

A loud, slow clap echoed across the bar.

From the shadows, Miguel emerged.

Dressed in sharp black, smirking like an author exposed

the guy who wrote the script.

Teddy’s stomach dropped. “Miguel…?”

Roger didn’t meet his eyes.

Miguel walked onto the stage and, without hesitation, kissed Roger.

Hard. Possessively. As if to claim victory.

Gasps. Shocked silence.

Miguel grabbed the mic.

“What’s wrong, Laundry Teddy? Surprised?”

Teddy couldn’t speak.

Miguel sneered.

“Let me break it down for the crowd, since it looks like we’ve got an audience.”

He paced like a stand-up comic, cruel and gleeful.

Miguel grabbed the mic, and with venom in his voice, he turned to the crowd.

“Let me tell you who Laundry Teddy really is.”

Laughter echoed before the first insult landed.

“Do you know why Roger can’t love you?

Because you’re a loser.

And people don’t like losers because they’ll end up like one.

Wait guys, we’re just getting started, let’s talk about his mother, Sylvia.

She is a goddamn psycho! Where is she now?

Oh, right. She left him. Dumped you for fucking Guatemala.”

The crowd chuckled.

“And Drew? Oh boy, this is juicy, let’s talk about your sweet neighbor Drew.

Turns out Laundry Teddy’s been playing house with his own brother.

How’s that for a headline? Incest: now with extra fabric softener.”

More laughter. Ugly. Brutal.

Teddy’s knees buckled.

“And Cliff? The big-shot executive?” Miguel sneered. “What? Don’t you think I’ll

skip that part? Don’t give me that how I knew look, Teddy your stain is all over

the place, gossip travels like flies, the walls screams like being screwed

right by their tight asses. Anyway, here’s the thing with Teddy, he likes to

live in the world of illusions painted by crayons of make believes.

So he sucked up this Cliff into his world, thinking that all his cash will fill up his ass,

but yeah, he got married today.

Because once a man meets Laundry Teddy,

the first thing he wants to do is run to the altar with someone else.

Because with Teddy, the last thing you’ll want in life is

to be stuck with bloody Teddy and his bloody laundry”

More laughter. Cruel this time.

Laughter that stung.

Teddy froze. He couldn’t move.

His throat closed up.

He just stood there as tear after tear kept on falling from his eyes.

Just like Miguel’s voice, it drips of sour venom.

“You guys wanna know what it’s like being around Laundry Teddy?

It's like touching bleach with an open wound.

Painful, sad, and pathetic.

He can’t read. Stupid Laundry Teddy can’t read.”

The crowd erupted in laughter.

“All he knows is laundry. Bleach, fold, cry. That’s his life.

Oh yeah, of course, he has to fuck these guys in between until he

ended up with just his used dildo why?

because his men left him for good

they can’t feel anything,

so yeah, blame that nasty dildo

it made his hole more loose than the

whore down the street.”

The crowd erupted in stunned, awkward laughter.

A few people chuckled nervously. A couple shook their heads.

“And I bet,” Miguel sneered, “no one here would even bother to stand next to him now.

Right? Who would ever want to be seen with Laundry Teddy?

So…Teddy, why are you still here? Why are you still standing and crying?

Piss off Teddy, Get the fuck out of this stage.

Or should I ask the crowd again…

any takers? Who wants to bet on Teddy?”

Silence.

Then—

“I would.”

A voice cut through the tension like thunder.

Teddy stood alone in the harsh lights.

His face stained with tears.

His silence was louder than anything Miguel could scream.

Miguel stepped closer to the edge of the stage.

“Who’s that?” Miguel tried to shield his eyes from the blinding spot lights.

“I’ll take that bet.”

The crowd fell silent.

The Taco Guy stepped forward, pushing through the bodies with quiet fire in his eyes.

The room parted for him as if it knew.

“I said, I’ll take your bet,” he repeated,

He stepped on stage, And punched Miguel square in the jaw.

Miguel landed on the floor, right by the shoes of Roger.

Eyes locked on Teddy. “Told you, I’ll bet on you”

Then, in front of everyone, he kissed him.

It wasn’t tender. It wasn’t careful. It was real.

The kiss poured all the deafening silence and heart splitting pains

into ONE SINGLE KISS.

Taco Guy turned to Teddy. “I see you. I’ve always seen you.”

And that’s when Teddy realized something he had not seen before

but was always there:

As he collapsed on that tile floor, bloodied and shaking, gut bruised from

Roger’s punch, there was a guy who came, his hands were trembling as he

wipe the blood away from his face, he was careful not to miss a button as

he button Teddy’s shirt up while cradling him against his chest.

He was also there when Cliff took him home that night after their “Conference table”

moment. He was holding a bouquet of roses that fell to the ground

when reality hits that Cliff won that night. And he was standing holding two

chicken intestine skewers expecting that he was rushing towards him, but in reality,

he was sprinting towards Drew, as Teddy balances his two dates with Drew

and Cliff. He shielded him from the rain with his umbrella and carried him home

at his back when Cliff and Drew are fighting over him.

Teddy with tears on his eyes, “Kiss me, whore.”

“You don’t have to ask Teddy, because I will be your whore.

I will always be your fucking whore. You’re mine now.

And I will not wait and watch anymore, because tonight, I will take.

I will just bloody…..take, Oh I bet you Teddy, I will bloody take”

He kissed Teddy again.

More intense.

More rough.

More raw.

And then…

The Taco guy scoop Teddy off his feet and carried him outside the

bar as everyone gasped, as shock rattles their core being straight to their bones.

They head towards his bike parked under the street post.

He gave Teddy a helmet, and together they rode through the night.

And behind them, the world finally understood what love is.

Love is a pile of laundry—you can wash it with lies, toss it with empty promises,

but you can't bleed it dry.

Because love will always find truth:

the spot where even the toughest stains can’t hide.